


Table Manners

by boudicca



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boudicca/pseuds/boudicca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>'In England, the correct behavior is to keep your hands on your lap when you are not using them. In France the rule is to keep your hands above the table at all times.'</i> - From a fine dining list.</p><p>England makes good use of the English rule that hands must be kept in the lap when dining.  France has no such luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table Manners

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme de-anon.

_'In England, the correct behavior is to keep your hands on your lap when you are not using them. In France the rule is to keep your hands above the table at all times.' - From a fine dining list._

There wasn't any good reason for it, really. Maybe it was the absurdly lewd display of pasta-eating that Italy was putting to catch Germany's attention, practically deep-throating his fork, maybe it was that a large number of the nations - Canada in particular, with his hair falling in soft waves to his collar - looked splendid in formalwear, not that he'd ever admit it to them. Definitely not the faint scent of cologne trailing off France in the seat beside him. No good reason, anyway, but there it was: England's prick pressed hard and insistant against the fly of his trousers in the middle of the UN formal dinner. He shifted, trying to adjust his trousers so that it was less uncomfortable, at least, since it had been a good many minutes now and his hard-on showed no sign of abating.

No, that was worse. With a frustrated grunt, he tugged at his trousers again, trying to bring more slack to the front where it was needed.

Probably it was just the motion, or maybe France really did have some kind of preternatural sex-sense, because he abruptly stopped making eyes across the table and snapped his attention to England's crotch. He feigned shock at England's efforts to ease his discomfort. " _Un problème, Angleterre?_ "

England glowered at him. Why was it that France always managed to catch him in embarrassing situations, and never the other way around? Didn't they ever get inconvenient erections in France, or were they just too bloody _French_ for that?

It was as he unbuttoned the button on his trousers, meaning just to make things a little less snug, that inspiration struck him. Maybe he could make things a little inconvenient for France. He took one side of his jacket, pulled it forward in front of him so that the view was blocked from the left, so only France on his right could see his lap. Then he unzipped his fly. His prick prodded out.

He thumbed the head through his boxers for a few moments, noting with satisfaction that France hadn't looked away for a moment.

"Putting on a show for me, Angleterre?" France teased.

For once England smiled right back, nodding. France was still smirking, but at least he didn't seem to have any remarks to make about this development.

He slid his cock out through the fly of his boxers slowly, his fingers wrapping around the shaft as it was exposed. Careful to move from the wrist only, so that the movement wouldn't be obvious across the table, he started jerking himself off. What a wonderful thing - that the British were _supposed to_ keep their hands in their laps. Very handy.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, even turning from France to pretend to follow along with the conversation China and Japan were having to his left. After a few minutes, though, he couldn't resist a glance back - France was facing across the table, but he was clearly watching England out of the corner of his eye.

England reached up to catch the drop of precum on his thumb, drag the moisture down his cock. He lightly gripped his balls with his other hand and slowed down his motions, making them anguishingly slow - but it was worth it, because he had France riveted now. France jabbed at the food on his plate with a fork while shifting his hips in discomfort - England could see that he was at least half-hard now - and bound by the manners of his country to keep his hands on the table. Couldn't even adjust his trousers, much less get off.

England smiled, eying France's bulge with satisfaction. He worked his own shaft extravagantly, rubbing the head with his thumb as he did so. Finally, he came with a stifled grunt, catching it in his right hand.

He leaned back in his chair as he zipped his trousers, smiling with too many teeth to convey to France just how _satisfying_ that had been.

France narrowed his eyes at him in irritation, biting his lip and trying, again, to sit in a way so that his hard-on didn't press quite so hard against the fine fabric of his trousers.

England fluttered his lashes at France, the picture of innocence. "A problem, France?"

France watched his, annoyance still obvious on his face, until England moved his hand across the space between their chairs and reached for France's fly. He palmed his hard-on through the cloth, kneading gently, before unzipping France's trousers and easing France's cock out. France inhaled sharply as he wrapped the fingers around his shaft.

France kept his hands on the table as England jerked him off. Even as he did so, England couldn't help smiling as he thought about later, when France would realize that England had smeared his handful of cum on France's crotch.


End file.
